Challenge
by InSilva
Summary: Danny versus Rusty. Oh, it could happen. One-shot.


Challenge by InSilva

Summary: Danny versus Rusty. Oh, it could happen.

Disclaimer: None of the boys belong to me. Although I am thrilled owner of magnificent piece of artwork courtesy of the wonderful man I'm married to. Please check out my profile page where it is represented in miniature and understand the squee. :)

A/N: well, firstly, this is happier and secondly, it's happier. And it's wholly for otherhawk. Because it is.

* * *

She wasn't prepared, that was the thing. Not that anyone surely could be. She wasn't even looking. It wasn't as if she didn't have a date – a third date at that, although the way it was going, she doubted if there'd be a fourth. The man was far too fond of the sound of his own voice and it was a relief when he'd excused himself.

Right now, she was sat in the busy hotel bar, waiting for his return and hoping it might be some time and…there he was. Watching her. Watching her with interest. Definite interest and a hint of promise. Her. And she was…and he was… She was honest enough to know she wasn't even close to his league. But all the same, here he was, walking over and she started to breathe irregularly and she could feel the colour rising in her cheeks and then he was there, standing there…

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"No," she heard herself saying and he slid gracefully into Bernie's chair.

The next few minutes were a haze. Any thoughts about playing hard to get had flown out of the window and she was busy telling him everything – about her mother and her cats and her dead end job and the blind date with Bernie. It all poured out of her and he sat there listening with a gentle smile and encouragement and the promise in his eyes. She basked in the charm and when he asked for her number, she threw caution to the winds because despite what her mother had always told her, Mr Right wasn't going to come riding up anytime soon and even if this man who sat and shone in front of her, even if he only wanted what her mother said all men wanted, well, she wouldn't mind, not if it meant she got to sit in the rays of his beauty again.

She wrote the digits down with a shaky hand on a napkin and pressed it into his palm, trembling a little at the thrill of the brief contact.

"Thanks, Amanda," he murmured, getting to his feet. "And you know, dump the jerk. You can do so much better."

* * *

_Earlier…_

"You two always been like this?" Livingston with a few drinks inside him was always more coherent and always more forthright.

Danny and Rusty exchanged glances, aware that Saul and Reuben were doing just the same.

"Like what, Livingston?" Danny asked carefully, taking a sip of whisky.

Rusty looked interested too as well he might, because really, that question could cover a whole lot.

Livingston's supplementary didn't help.

"Together. You know…together." He waved his glass in the air by way of further explanation.

There was a pause and then Basher cleared his throat.

"Together, mate?" he asked.

Livingston paled as if suddenly realising what he'd said. He flushed and looked at Saul who was shaking his head and Reuben who was grinning wildly and Danny whose expression was complete amusement and Rusty whose eyes were alive with laughter.

"Not…not…oh, God!" Livingston disappeared into a gulp of whisky and swallowed and choked.

When Basher had finished patting him on the back, he looked up watery-eyed at the others sat round the table. "I meant," he croaked, "always on the same side."

"Ahh," Danny nodded understanding. "Good question."

"Excellent question," Rusty agreed.

"A question worth asking."

"I would have asked it."

"I would too."

"Because really-"

"-well, exactly-"

"-unless you count-"

"-which I don't-"

"Is it a question you feel like answering?" Reuben interjected, taking a puff on his cigar. "Any time this century?"

Danny and Rusty grinned.

"The trouble with rivalry," Saul said slowly, "is that it presumes some sort of rivalry."

"Yeah," Rusty nodded at the deep truth. "And I hate presumptions."

"Except when you're the one doing the presuming," Danny patiently pointed out.

"Oh, yeah. Then, I don't mind at all."

"Gentlemen." A waitress called Sandy cleared their dead glasses away from the table.

"Thanks, Sandy," Rusty flicked a smile up at her and she giggled.

"Thanks, Sandy," Danny echoed, dark eyes dancing and she giggled again.

"So you've never been in a situation where you've been up against each other?" Livingston wanted to be clear.

_Is he Linus in disguise?_

_In more ways than one._

"Not by any serious measure," Danny confirmed, putting him out of his misery.

_How long?_

_Any second._

"And by any measure that's not serious?" Basher asked.

Rusty gave a little half-grin. "Why, Bash? You got one in mind?"

Mindful of Sandy, Basher had as it happened.

"Alright, here's one for you. As many phone numbers as you can get."

"From Yellow Pages?"

Basher ignored Danny. "From the bar. What do you think?"

Danny's eyes met Rusty's.

_What do you think?_

"What does the winner get?" Rusty asked.

"Respect," said Basher.

"Deep respect," Livingston muttered.

"Best suite in the place plus a meal of your choice prepared by Dominic," Reuben threw in.

"I'll show you how to deal the Washington Cleaver hand."

There was an almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere. Danny's eyes had grown sharper and Rusty had grown very still.

"Well?" Saul asked mildly.

_Well?_

Rusty's grin slowly formed.

"Any rules?"

"Would you pay any attention to them if there were?" Reuben wanted to know.

"I'll go with Danny," Basher said. "Livingston goes with Rusty. We'll hold the numbers and do the count up at the end. Meet back here in three hours."

Rusty reached over the table and Danny shook his hand.

"May the best man win."

* * *

Saul watched them work the room. They definitely had different styles. Rusty was all grace and beauty and lazy dazzle and blinding charm. Danny had the charm in spades as well of course, but he was more about dark charisma and passionate intensity and using his eyes and his voice to entice.

"How's it going?" Reuben asked, returning with drinks.

"Hard to tell," Saul said truthfully. "I keep losing count."

"There were a couple of girls at the bar who'd met Rusty. Doubt they're going to forget the experience in a hurry."

Saul nodded. He'd seen a pair of girls go past giggling after an encounter with Danny. Rusty and Danny. On full beam. Not even attempting to hide the shine.

"What have we done?" he wondered aloud.

Reuben shrugged. "Fuelled a thousand fantasies."

* * *

Basher was in awe. Danny moved with careless precision, targeting, aiming, firing, 100% hit rate. The numbers were flooding in.

Damn but the man could charm. He didn't even have any cheesy chat up. His lines were casual, interested, intriguing. He drew them in and they snagged themselves on the web of smoulder and silken words. The women didn't even look like they'd mind if he didn't call them. They were living for the minute, for the moment.

Danny's stock rose even further in Basher's eyes.

* * *

Livingston was similarly mesmerised by all the satellites happy to orbit Planet Rusty. A casual touch, a glance up under his lashes, the flirt bright in his eyes, the hint of the dazzle, using every advantage his genes had given him. Oh, Livingston could see the mechanics of it all. He couldn't even blame the recipients' giddiness. Hell, _he _would be giddy if Rusty looked at him like that. He shook himself sternly and went back to counting numbers.

* * *

They passed each other briefly.

"You still got it?"

"Don't believe I ever lost it."

"Not even with married life dulling your ability?"

"What about life under close police surveillance? Hasn't that curbed your instincts?"

They looked at one another.

_You really want to win…_

_So do you…_

_You kidding?_

They'd been after the secret of the Washington Cleaver since they knew it existed.

"Later."

"Later."

* * *

It _was_ later. They were all sat back round the table once more and all eyes were on Basher and Livingston.

"Rusty?" Livingston was frowning and holding out a napkin with three numbers on it.

"Triplets," he said promptly and Reuben's eyes went skywards.

"Danny?" Basher's turn with a query and a crowded matchbook.

"Air hostesses. Four of them. They like to share."

Livingston blinked at him slowly. Then, "Er, Rus? This seems to be from someone called Graham. And this one's from a Seth."

Rusty just looked at him. "What's your point?" he asked levelly.

Livingston hurriedly decided there wasn't one.

Saul cleared his throat. "Results, gentlemen."

Danny and Rusty looked across the table at each other and the atmosphere changed again. Because they both wanted to win but neither wanted the other to lose. And suddenly, both were afraid the other might. There was a tension in both of them but they couldn't stop Basher and Livingston comparing the amazing numbers and they couldn't stop Basher saying…

"Danny wins. By one."

Nobody said a thing. And Danny didn't look like a man who'd won anything. He looked shocked and uncomfortable as if he didn't quite know how to handle the news. He stared at Rusty and everyone else at the table faded into background.

"Rus, I…"

_Rus…Rus…_

Rusty said nothing. Then he gave a lazy grin and ramped it up to full wattage.

"It's lucky I'm a good loser."

* * *

Drinks had been drunk.

Reuben had organised the suite and instructed Dominic to prepare Danny's favourite foods.

Saul had disappeared into a side room with Danny and Danny had emerged in full knowledge of how the card trick was done.

Basher had decided it would be a shame to let the numbers go to waste and was busy making calls.

Rusty had caught Livingston by the arm.

"Here." He pressed the napkin into Livingston's hand. "Her name's Amanda and she's a nice girl. I think you'd get on well together."

Livingston stared stupidly at the number. It hadn't been included in the final count. _But that meant…_ He looked but Rusty had gone.

* * *

The suite was magnificent and Dominic had prepared a feast at short notice. Danny stared down at the food miserably. It felt wrong. It felt very, very wrong. He didn't ever want to beat Rusty. Not at anything. It wasn't what they were about. It wasn't who they were. It wasn't them. It felt as hollow a victory as he'd ever had. The only upside of it all was the Washington Cleaver explanation. So simple. So effective. And he had so much been looking forward to tormenting Rusty over it. But that had died away. That had been before he won. Before Rusty lost.

Where was Rusty anyway? He should be here. He should be sharing. He'd been talking to Livingston and then, when he'd come back from having one of the mysteries of the universe revealed, he'd just disappeared.

_Oh, God…don't let him be really upset, don't let him take it to heart, don't let him be hurting…_

He took off his shoes and hurled them against the wall savagely.

"If you break the room, I think you have to pay for it." The voice floated through from the bathroom.

Danny pushed the door open. Rusty was ensconced in the jacuzzi, glass of champagne in hand.

_What? We're not sharing?_

Foolish words of apology fell away as Rusty cut them off with a look.

"Is there tiramisu?"

"You could climb out of there and have a look."

"Or you could bring some in with you."

Danny nodded. That was also a plan. He padded away and returned with two plates of dessert. Rusty poured him a glass of champagne and he stripped off and climbed into the bubbles.

"Rus, about tonight-"

"Don't sweat it. It was a draw."

"It was?"

"Saved a number back for Livingston."

Well, that made him feel a whole lot better.

"So. Washington Cleaver. Morally, I'm entitled to that secret too."

Danny looked at the cream and the chocolate disappearing opposite him.

"There is nothing moral about you," he said firmly. "Decadent, yes. Moral…?"

"You gonna tell me or you gonna make me work for it?"

Danny considered. "After you let me think I beat you? I'd say you're gonna have to work for it."

Rusty's eyes lit up. He ran a finger through the remains of the cream and licked it off and said absolutely nothing.


End file.
